


No Tracks In The Snow

by JacknessofHearts



Category: One Piece
Genre: 3D2Y (One Piece), Gen, Relationship Study, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28318995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacknessofHearts/pseuds/JacknessofHearts
Summary: “Depends on what you're interested in,” Coby calls back, heart hammering in his chest but it's almost calming to be nervous like this. Keeps him alert.“Anything that shakes the world at its core,” Drake says, andyes. That's the code.“Well,” Coby says, turning a page of the paper like he's not immensely glad to be sure it's the real X Drake sitting in front of him. He still has to confirm with his own code to identify himself. “There's been an earthquake on an island in West Blue, if that's what you mean.”*Coby meets with Drake.
Relationships: Coby & X Drake
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	No Tracks In The Snow

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Secret Santa gift for dual-mayhem on tumblr, who wished for Coby and Drake being precious. I hope I delivered!
> 
> Merry Christmas, Ichiji!  
> I'm very excited to gift you this fic as your One Piece Secret Santa! I had never written Coby or Drake before but this was tons of fun to think about. I really hope you like it.  
> Have a happy christmas and a wonderful new year!
> 
> *
> 
> I may have messed up the canon timeline a bit because I think Drake goes off to join the Beasts Pirates much sooner? But. I'm not sure?
> 
> Rated T for swearing, just to be sure.
> 
> *
> 
> Title from "Walking On The Wire" by When Rivers Meet
> 
> Look at [these pictures of Monschau in the snow](https://mondfahrt.tumblr.com/post/638466140769828864/utwo-monschau-germany-monschau-is-a-small) and you know exactly the kind of town I'm going for here!

The island isn't much bigger than a speck on his map, not even big enough to let a Log Pose point in its direction. The only ways to get there are an Eternal Pose or a Vivre Card, both very unsafe methods to use when you're supposed to be undercover. Anyone seeing you look at something as definite as an Eternal Pose will know your goal, anyone seeing you running around looking at a Vivre Card will maybe not know your goal but that you've got something to lose.

Of course, the island is also pressed into the Northern border of the Grand Line, close enough to the Calm Belt to make it dangerous. The Navy mostly pays it no attention, too far out of the way to attract the big pirate crews with their greedy eyes locked on Raftel and the port too small to attract any trade of signifance, making stocking up empty ships almost impossible.

It's utterly uninteresting, is the common mind set of the marines, who have bigger fishes to catch, grander plans to think about than some nameless island with a population of under 500 people, mostly fishermen.

Naturally, things like these tend to escalate, and tiny islands without Navy oversight become well-guarded secrets to people laying low, catching their breaths, and drinking surprisingly good, homebrewn ale.

It's a pirate hive, is what it is, and it sets Coby's teeth on edge just thinking about casting anchor here. They have to exchange his ship for something less obviously Navy-affiliated first and he leaves it behind with a bad feeling in his stomach, together with most of his crew. Only his most trusted people get to accompany him on this part of their mission and he'll leave them behind as well, a few miles off the coast.

“You're paranoid,” Helmeppo always says when Coby more or less covertly discusses half of his plans with him. Over a secure connection. Using codewords not even an Admiral would understand because he and Helmeppo have made them up way back when they had still _played_ more at being marines than actually _being_ marines.

Ah, simpler times.

But honestly, paranoia won't get Coby killed while no one knows where he or what he's doing, so Helmeppo can fuck right off.

The island — let's call it Snow Falls for now, because Coby won't even think its real name, it's a winter island, and _Isle of Icy Death_ just provokes fate. So, Snow Falls is a winter island and Coby hates winter islands. They make his scars ache and he's never dressed warm enough, no matter how many layers he's wearing, and they make him miss the mild climate of East Blue the most.

Winter islands are also perfect for scarves wrapped around the lower half of his face, and hats pulled deep into his eyes to disguise his shockingly obvious hair colour, making it almost impossible to recognize him, so he gets it. He really does.

He does wish for a nice spring island, though, just once in a while.

His breath hangs in the air for a long time before it dissipates. His first steps onto the island are cautious, measured, because you can never be too careful with winter islands. On top of that, he's steered his boat to the coast opposed to the harbour, where there aren't as many pirates running around but where the cliffs are also steep and covered in deep layers of snow.

 _Paranoid_ , he hears Helmeppo's voice, but he shrugs it off. No time to think about stuff like this, now. He's almost late.

The road to the village is just as decked in snow, curving through a few hills and a dense forest he almost gets lost in. He wonders why the meet-up place couldn't have been _here_ , away from civilization and villagers and _pirates_ but he tries not to question it too much.

And, of course, he's meeting a pirate under pirates, technically.

The village is almost quaint. Narrow, half-timbered buildings press into each other like they're huddling together for warmth, their dark, wooden frames a stark contrast to the white panels of the walls. Every house seems to have a different frame, designs ranging from simple crossed beams to intricate designs that curl around the walls like some kind of ornamental crochet doily. The streets resemble more of a quilt than the pirate-infested, icy hell Coby had expected.

He stares up the houses for a few minutes while trying to orient himself.

They're supposed to meet at some bar, although the information as to _which bar exactly_ had kind of gotten lost in the bad den-den connection at the time. Doesn't matter anyway. Coby has experience in looking for the right place.

He keeps his head down as he walks through the streets, even with his face almost completely covered in cloth. Most of the people he sees are similarly dressed in heavy coats lined with fur, woolen scarves and gloves and hats covering skin whenever possible.

Some people are walking briskly, seemingly in a hurry to get out of the cold, and Coby has to scurry out of the way a few times to not bump into anyone. Others carry crates and barrels on wide shoulders but not enough to rethink the Navy's assumption of Snow Falls being a bad place for pirates to restock for lack of goods.

And there _are_ pirates. Lots and lots and lots of them, features recognizable even in their winter gear.

Coby checks them off the long list of wanted posters in his head. The numbers grow higher and higher, hundreds of millions of berries in bounties on one island.

 _And you're all alone_ , he thinks. The thought makes him shiver.

The bar's a bit off the main road leading to the harbor, just tucked away enough to not be visible during a first tour through town but close enough to still attract people strolling by. A bit expensive, maybe, because _some people_ still like their booze to come in clean glasses, apparently.

The bar is called _The Splintered Mirror_ , like a bad joke challenging fate. It's exactly the kind of place he would avoid on any other day.

It's perfect.

Coby glares heavily at the sign swinging over his head, then he pushes the door open with a sigh.

About twenty people turn their heads towards him and he can feel their measuring gazes, can feel the hairs on his neck rise and has to force himself to nod curtly at the room at large, to relax his posture enough to seem unthreatening. For now.

At least it's warm inside, as soon as the door shuts behind him. The air is heavy with the breaths and smells and body heat of almost two dozen people, sweat mingling with alcohol mingling with foods from a kitchen behind the bar.

He sits down at an empty table in a corner, too far away from the door for his taste but also just a bit apart from the other patrons, so it's probably his best bad choice in a sea of terrible choices.

“Anything to eat?” a waitress asks. She has an easy smile and a soft face but her arms are muscular enough to know she's able to fight, her hair short enough to make it hard to grab and hold onto. She knows she's in a dangerous place, surrounded by dangerous people and has prepared accordingly.

Coby likes her instantly.

“Ah, something to warm me up, maybe?” He tugs his scarf down enough to smile at her. “It's really fucking cold here.”

She grins, more at him than with him but that's okay. Coby's used to that.

“Such wimps, you lot,” she says. “Coming to the New World, all talking big, but as soon as there's a little bit of snow, all you do is whine.”

Coby shrugs and sighs and tugs his gloves off his hands with his teeth. “Yeah, well, I'd rather lose my fingers in a fight than to frostbite, you know.”

She snorts, then recommends him some kind of stew that's apparently the cook's signature dish, and disappears into the kitchen after taking his order. Coby looks after her for a few seconds, considering. Apparently, he looks enough like a pirate to fool a waitress but it's another question entirely, if he managed to fool all the other pirates.

He shrugs out of his winter coat — the woolen hat stays on, though — after taking a newspaper out of his pocket, trying to look around without appearing too suspicious. But then again, everyone here is probably eyeing everyone else just on principle, a strange kind of neutral ground only established by the promise of food and beer and no marines.

_Hah. Good one, Coby._

“Oi, frostbite,” a voice booms into his direction.

Of course, Coby had noticed him sitting at the bar immediately upon entering but he still jumps when he's called out so suddenly.

“Anything interesting happening?”

Drake has an arm resting on top of the bar, almost lounging, his long legs stretched out and three empty glasses in front of him. To the rest of the world, to everyone else in the bar, he probably looks at least a bit drunk, comfortable, unthreatening even if his face alone is in all likelihood enough to keep everyone else at a distance. Not a lot of people would confront X Drake in any state, be it sober or drunk off his ass.

Doesn't make them any less dangerous, to Drake or to Coby, of course.

“Depends on what you're interested in,” Coby calls back, heart hammering in his chest but it's almost calming to be nervous like this. Keeps him alert.

“Anything that shakes the world at its core,” Drake says, and _yes. That's the code._

“Well,” Coby says, turning a page of the paper like he's not immensely glad to be sure it's the real X Drake sitting in front of him. He still has to confirm with his own code to identify himself. “There's been an earthquake on an island in West Blue, if that's what you mean.”

“Not exactly,” Drake says and Coby's pretty sure there's a smile in his voice when he saunters over to his table, coat swinging around his broad form. “May I?” He points at the empty chair in front of Coby with a full glass of beer in his hand.

“Suit yourself,” Coby says.

“You're late,” Drake chides then, his smooth voice quiet enough to almost get lost in the chatter of the bar.

“Some of us can't just enter port whenever we like to,” Coby complains. “I had to walk through the woods. Why aren't we meeting there, anyway? Seems much more… secluded.”

“Some of the crew were getting suspicious,” Drake argues, leaning back. The brim of his hat casts a wide shadow over his face but his grin seems more relaxed than Coby's seen it in a while, contrary to his words. “Getting secret calls and all. Wandering off into the woods wouldn't have made it easier.”

“Shit.” Coby frowns.

“Don't worry, I took care of it.”

And then Drake grins in that way that makes chills run up and down Coby's spine no matter the temperature. It's a dangerous, bloody thing, that smile, with sharp edges in all the wrong places.

“Where are they, anyway?” he asks, trying to calm his racing heart. “Your crew. Won't they get suspicious if you're here instead of with them?” He risks a careful glance around the room again but he can't make out any of the faces Drake's decided to surround himself with.

“Not if I'm drinking.” He lifts his glass to his mouth, gulping down most of the content in one take. “Drinking's _never_ frowned upon. You should know that by now.”

The waitress interrupts them, placing a huge bowl of steaming stew and a glass of beer in front of Coby.

“I see you've found company, Captain,” she says to Drake. Her smile is much _sharper_ when looking at him, Coby notices, and her hand lingers on Drake's arm for just two seconds too long when she leans over the table to take his empty glass. “I'll get you another.”

“More like found someone with a paper,” Drake says, flicking at Coby's newspaper. “Thanks, darling.”

Coby stares after her when she's gone without even sparing him another glance. “ _Darling?_ ”

“The crew's also not getting suspicious if I'm spending the night with someone,” Drake shrugs but his eyes shine too bright to be anything but excited. That shrug could've been a wink just as well.

“Ugh,” Coby says, “I didn't leave my crew alone on another island just to watch you flirt, old man.”

“Oi.” Drake's voice gets sharper in a way that almost makes Coby salute out of instinct. “Who're you calling old?” The pout on his face also makes it easier to not take him too seriously. “And I'm spending my precious time with you, now, aren't I?”

“Read your paper.” Coby picks up a spoon. “And let me forget this conversation ever happened.”

“I'm only 33,” Drake mutters but he picks up the newspaper. “ _And_ your superior, you remember that?”

“Can't hear you,” Coby says, mouth full with deliciously hot stew, “I'm wiping my mind of this.” He eats in silent for a few minutes, food warming him up fast, but he's still alert.

Drake appears almost too relaxed, especially in the way his eyes keep drifting towards the waitress, the dreamy look on his face all too familiar. Coby just hopes he doesn't have to scrape him off the floor later tonight just because he's drooling after a woman. He really doesn't have time for that.

Speaking of time.

“You sure you wanna talk in here?” he asks again, just to be sure. He's never stopped scanning the room for anyone dangerous and it seems as safe as it's going to get in any location but you'll never know which walls grow ears on the Grand Line. Sometimes literally.

Drake just shrugs. “Like I said. Not any safer out there than in here.” He juts his chin forward, his eyes suddenly sharp. “Don't be so afraid. I've been doing this for a while.”

“Being afraid is kind of my thing,” Coby says, dragging his spoon through the last of the food on his plate.

“There's a difference between being afraid and being cautious,” Drake says, his voice just that much more quiet, just to be sure. “You're a Captain now. Caution saves lives. Fear won't bring you any closer to your goal, it'll just bring your crew in danger because it stops you from thinking clearly.”

“Wise words, old man,” Coby says, cracking a smile at seeing Drake sputter.

“33!”

“On the Grand Line, that's _ancient_ ,” Coby says, feeling bold in a weird way. Joking with one of the most dangerous men he's ever met, just two or three years ago he'd have frozen in shock just thinking about it. But then, a lot has changed since that time.

Sitting here, now, with X Drake makes a proud warmth bloom in Coby's chest. He has to force himself not to let it go to his head. Or show up on his face.

“But you're right,” he admits, breathing in deeply. “Fear won't help me. Times are changing.”

Drake raises an eyebrow at him, waiting.

“Can't you feel it?” It's something that's been bugging Coby for a while now. A shift in the air, like a storm brewing or a hidden current in the waters about to grab his ship and simply drag him along, lost to the pull of change.

“I guess,” Drake says, slowly.

“I think Luffy's coming back soon,” Coby explains part of the weird, expectant feeling taking hold in his chest. “Two years, right? Time should almost be up.”

“You think he's still alive?”

“You don't?” Coby's laugh is a giddy thing, pressed out of his lungs like a melody pressed out of bagpipes.

“Two years ago,” Drake says, looking at Coby like he's a puzzle he'd like to figure out, “you saved his life.”

Coby is not used to being looked at like that. It's like he's in training again, being seized up for his worth and he doesn't know if he'll come out on top.

“At Marineford,” Drake continues, as if he's not made himself abundantly clear yet. “You stopped the war.”

Coby scoffs. “Shanks stopped the war. I was just in the way.”

“So, you _didn't_ save him?”

“Does it matter?” he asks. “We're both alive now. Both in the New World. Both stronger.”

“On opposite sides still.” Drake almost sounds reminiscent.

“Yes. And I still want to beat him,” Coby can't help but say. He knows it's impossible. Almost impossible. And yet, it's this impossibility brimming under his skin that makes _everything else_ seem possible. And if everything else is possible, well, maybe…

He takes a sip of his drink. He can't allow himself to get drunk here but he likes how the bitter taste of the beer lingers on his tongue. One glass won't kill him. Hopefully.

“No time to be afraid anymore, then,” Drake seems to get what he's saying. Then, suddenly, he shifts in his seat, leaning forward. He takes one last breath before he speaks, even quieter this time, serious in a way that tells Coby he's been right.

Times are changing. The wind is picking up.

“It's going to happen soon,” Drake says. “I'm close. I don't know what'll happen when I join the Beasts Pirates. But we'll probably not be able to meet like this for a while.”

Coby's heartbeat had picked up as soon as Drake's started talking. It's hammering painfully against his ribs now but it's not a rhythm Coby recognizes. Of course, there's fear. There always is, with these things, with these _important_ things, but there's also something like _anticipation_ thrown into the mix.

They're really doing it. Drake's infiltrating Kaido's crew.

“Fine by me,” Coby says, voice shaking just a little. _They're doing it._ “If I don't have to come out to the middle of Fuckall, Winter Hell ever again, I'm all in.”

Drake's serious expression morphs into something light, amused. “Works out for the both of us, then.”

They leave the bar not long after, Drake throwing one last longing look back at the waitress but still following Coby out into the cold without hesitation.

It's started to snow, thick white snowflakes tumbling through the air and sticking to hats and coats, and melting on noses and in the fires some villagers have put up on the sides of the street in large metal bowls. People cluster around them, holding their hands up against the flames as close as they dare, but some of the town's folk have also brought large iron pans and pots they suspend on metal grids over the open fires. The scent of chestnuts and mulled wine fills the air, drawing everyone in vicinity close.

“Are they _cooking_?” Coby can't help but ask.

Drake looks down at him, then at the people apparently selling food and drink to every pirate still standing out in the cold. They don't even seem that bothered by the snow or the wind or the fact that the vendors are clearly trying to rip them off.

Coby recognizes faces with fifty, or sixty, or seventy thousand berries bounties haggling over a few coins and still laughing when the vendor's clearly not budging much, happily digging through their pockets for money to pay for a steaming mug of mulled wine or a warm bag filled with chestnuts to be placed into their hands.

“Pirates are weird,” he decides, not for the first time in his life.

Drake humms beside him. “All pirates?”

“Every last one,” Coby nods, and pointedly does not look at Drake. He expects him to ask something like _Me too?,_ but Drake has rarely done anything Coby expected.

“Even Straw Hat?” There's something cautious in his tone, something Coby can't quite put a finger on, and he isn't sure he likes it.

“Especially him,” he says. “You'll see.”

“You think we'll meet?”

Coby grins. “If it means our whole plan's gone up in flames at that point, I kind of know he'll be there. He _finds_ trouble.” He pauses, then, stepping around a group of people huddling around a fire. “I _hope_ he'll be there, then.”

They're walking towards the edge of the forest, Coby realizes eventually, when there's less and less people on the street.

“I don't,” Drake says, grimly staring ahead. “He's unpredictable in the worst way.”

Coby can't help the laugh startled out of him at that. He knows everything from here on out will be unpredictable and terribly, horribly dangerous. They'll be lucky to make it out alive. Especially Drake.

“I know you don't trust pirates,” Coby says, suddenly taken by the need to get this thought out of him before it's too late. “But I trust Luffy with my life.”

They come to a halt, close to the first line of trees behind the town. Drake meets Coby's eyes with a frown.

“If you say so,” is probably the best reply Coby could've hoped for. He'll take what he can get.

“Well, then,” he says, stepping away from Drake and towards the trees, tipping his hat in a mock salute and feeling weirdly somber. “Take care, Captain,” Coby says, voice serious. He means it, too, with every fiber of his fearful but excited heart.

“Nothing to worry about, Captain,” Drake grins. It's his widest smile, wild not only in the edges but all over, his teeth glinting in the night, razor-sharp. “I'll see you soon.”

Coby snorts but he can't hold back his own grin. “I hope not.”


End file.
